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Saturday, September 1, 2012

The Redshirt Freshman of Notre Dame

The Red Shirt Freshman of Notre Dame
by David B. Riley

Otis Claverson didn't look too good when the
trainers carried him off the field. His eyes were glazed over and his usually
smiling face had been replaced by one filled with searing pain. "Seventy-three,"
someone kept yelling. That number seemed familiar. Lizard Murphy glanced down at
his jersey. He was number 73. He looked at Elmo Bruno, defensive coordinator for
the Fighting Irish. "Lizard in," the crusty man with the thinning crew cut
ordered. Lizard put on his helmet and trotted onto the field. The last game of
the regular season, a bowl bid and a national championship were on the line and
Lizard had never played for a single minute during the entire season. He lined
up at the right middle linebacker spot, replacing the injured Otis Claverson,
who was in for only two plays for the starting linebacker.

He grunted and looked mean for the benefit
of the big tight end on the other side of the ball. Lizard glanced down and
realized they were practically standing on the end zone. They were down by three
points and there was only a minute left in the game and New Mexico State was
about to score again — New Mexico State.

The instant the ball was snapped, the
quarterback stepped back to pass. Lizard scrambled after the tight end. Lizard
ran like a truck and had been put in to stop the anticipated run. For a big man,
their tight end was fast—much faster than Lizard. Lizard tried to keep up.
Suddenly the tight end turned back toward the quarterback. Lizard was behind
him—way behind him, and the ball was going straight at the tight end, who was
now five yards in front of Lizard.

Then something strange happened that would
change Lizard's life forever. The New Mexico State tight end vanished—just
disappeared. The ball sailed straight into Lizard's gut. Somehow, Lizard managed
to hang onto it.

"Down it you meathead!" he could hear coach
Elmo yelling.

There were a lot of the other guys between
him and the other end zone nearly 100 yards away, but time was running out. He
put his helmet down and charged ahead. The first state guy made contact on the
five, a stiff arm sent him to the turf. By the 20, Lizard's lungs were hurting
and he still had 80 yards to go. A second guy missed a tackle to his legs.
Lizard looked over his shoulder. Micky D. was only a few yards behind him. The
free safety was so much faster than he was. He tossed the ball—a perfect lateral
to his teammate. Lizard stopped. His teammate sailed past him, dodged two
tacklers and headed into open field.

A few seconds later Notre Dame was back on
top as Mick D. Spillner ran untouched into the end zone. People everywhere on
the sidelines were cheering and jumping up and down—at least everywhere on the
Notre Dame side. The State guys were jumping up and down too, but they were
screaming and shaking their fists.

The New Mexico State coach, finishing an
undefeated rookie season, disregarded the fact that Notre Dame was setting up
for the extra point and stormed out onto the field. The referee threw a flag and
blew his whistle to stop play. "Where the hell's my tight end?" he yelled to the
official.

After a five minute consultation, the referee
ruled that the touchdown stood, and that there were ten seconds left on the
clock. Campus security would have to deal with the mysterious disappearance of
Buz Bombarella, star tight end for New Mexico State. Disappearing during a play
was not covered in NCAA rules.

Lizard was touched when Mickey D. gave him
the football he'd lateraled to him. He vowed to cherish it forever.

That evening, he was walking back to his
room in the company of Juliet Mills, one of the cheerleaders who had suddenly
taken an interest in him. He was about to explain how he'd come to be named
Lizard, but he had an uneasy feeling that something wasn't quite right. Tearing
his eyes away from her, he looked around. There was a flying saucer hovering
over the dorm. He broke into a run. In fact, if he'd ran that fast earlier, he
could've scored the touchdown himself. He charged up the stairs and busted
through the door to his room without even stopping to turn the knob or unlock
it.

A little green guy with black eyes and two
antennae sticking out of his head was climbing out the window — with the game
ball. Lizard lunged after him and grabbed onto the ball. The green-guy jumped
off the ledge and pulled Lizard off with him. Instead of falling, they ascended.
Three seconds later, they were inside the flying saucer.

Lizard kicked the green guy with enough
force to get his football back.

Five other green guys were standing around
him, each one had a shiny cylinder pointed straight at Lizard's head. He let the
green guy take back the football.

"It's you!" someone said. Lizard turned
around. There was another green guy, but this one was wearing a Notre Dame
jersey. The other green guys bowed. "I can't believe it's you. Would you
autograph the football?"

Lizard accepted the pen one of them was now
holding and scrawled something with his right hand. Lizard was a southpaw and
figured that was about as good as a bad forgery. They didn't seem to notice.
"What's with you guys?" He handed back the football "Go Irish!" they all yelled
in unison. An ugly thought entered his mind. "You guys do something to that
tight end?"

They all started looking toward the ceiling.
The one in the football jersey finally gestured for the others to put away their
weapons. "You would've lost the national championship."

"There were only fifty seconds left," the
others said, again all in unison. "A touchdown would've finished you."

"You wanted to see me?" Lizard asked as he
stood at attention in Elmo Bruno's office.

Bruno turned down the sound of the
television. He'd been watching Jeopardy. "This ruckus about yesterday's game.
The Fiesta Bowl just backed out of their invite. The boss is in there now trying
to get us booked in some bowl in Alaska."

"Alaska?"

"Yeah, and they're talking about going with
Alcom State instead of us."

"Alcom?"

"I don't even know where the heck that
is."

Lizard sat down in one of the comfy leather
chairs. "I wouldn't worry about it, sir. I think Notre Dame is entering a new
era of football."

"How so?"

The news team interrupted Jeopardy on the
television to bring a report that the stadium in Arizona that was used by the
Fiesta Bowl had just been leveled by an apparent earthquake. Police were denying
rumors of a flying saucer sighting just moments before the quake.

Author's note: The way college bowls are
awarded has changed substantially since this story was first published. I'm posting this story in honor of the start of college football season. It first appeared in Strange Days magazine.